A Widow's Crusade: Chapter 2
This is the second chapter of this novel, set in the start of the 13th century and describing a widow's voyage to the Holy Land on a personal crusade. I will be publishing a chapter a week until Christmas. I hope you enjoy it -- and keep in mind that the text of the story is copyrighted.
CHAPTER TWO
Chauvigny, PoitouMay 1212
The light slanted down from a narrow window high above their heads and Blanche watched the dust particles dance in the sun-light while she listened to the nasal voice of the Templar chaplain reread the document he had composed at her request. She listened very carefully, making minor corrections as necessary, and she noted the way the Treasurer of the Commandery, who sat opposite her, raised his eye-brows once or twice. There were not many women who had such a good command of Latin, he noted dryly as they finished."I was an only child." Blanche replied, as if this explained everything.The chaplain turned the document around and passed it across the table to her. The treasurer shoved the lighted candle and the ceiling wax in her direction. Blanche took her time, skimming the written text to be sure it was identical to what had been read aloud. With this document she bequeathed the bulk of her estate to her son Jean-Pierre, but the precious stud-farm, the jewel of her inheritance, was sold to the Knights Templar for the princely sum of 1000 Louis Tournais. The facts were simple: Jean-Pierre would never be able to hold on to the stud-farm against his powerful and less scrupulous half-brothers. She preferred to see the Templars benefit from her father's prize stallions than her step-sons. When she had convinced herself that everything was exactly as she had decreed, she held the ceiling wax in the candle until it started to melt and then let the wax fall heavily upon the base of the document. Removing her signet ring, she pressed it carefully into the wax. The Treasurer was already holding out his hand palm up.Blanche rolled the parchment together and wrapped the red ribbon around the roll, tying it neatly and firmly as she would her embroidery threads. Then with a smile to the Treasurer, she took the document and slipped into her wide, flowing outer sleeve. "I want a receipt for the 100 Louis made out for redemption in Outremer, and I will turn this deed over to a representative of Your Order the day I am safely delivered to the household of Hughes de Hebron at Castle Montfort in Galilee."The Treasurer yanked his hand back and his eyes flashed with irritation. "I don't understand, Madame. If you wish to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, than you can be assured of the protection of the Knights Templar from here to any place in Palestine. That has nothing to do with the Testament you have just made." His hand, as if of its own accord, was reaching out again."I'm not going on pilgrimage. I am going to visit an old friend in the Holy Land, and since I am an old, foolish woman, I want a Templar escort from door to door." She smiled her most charming smile.The Treasurer's face was stony. "Madame, my Order is virtually the only bulwark holding back the Saracen hoards. We are involved in a life-and-death struggle every day. Our entire energy and resources are directed toward holding on to the Sacred Soil of our Saviour. The Knights and Sergeants of my Order are not for hire.""Ah." Blanche responded, looking him directly in the eye. "I certainly did not wish to imply that the Templars could be hired. But if my father's stud farm and the wonderful horses it could provide your knights for generations to come are not worth the trouble of escorting an old woman to Castle Montfort, than I suppose I should see if the Hospitallers--""I didn't say that!" The Treasurer interrupted her sharply. His face was harsh, his teeth clamped together, and she could see how much he hated her. But she smiled sweetly and waited for him to continue. "I will be sending dispatches to Acrein a fortnight. If you are ready by then--""But of course, Monsieur." She smiled rising, the deed still tucked neatly inside her sleeve."You will have to ride, Madame. No litter, no wagon. And only one servant.""I will take my waiting woman and a groom, Monsieur." Blanche told him calmly, and the Treasurer swallowed down this retort like bitter beer because he had no choice but to accept it.+ + +Sir Everard tightened the girth of his fretful stallion with a sharp jerk and with his left hand automatically fended off the snapping teeth. He could not suppress the nervousness in his stomach, nor could he decide if it was an honor or an insult that he had been tasked to escort some old widow to the Holy Land. It was just two years since he had joined the Order, and this was the first time he had been entrusted with a task on his own. Even more awe-inspiring, it was his first opportunity to go to the Holy Land. But escorting an old noblewoman was hardly something a young man could be proud of, and, to complete the ambiguity, they had assigned Sergeant Lestelle to accompany him. Sergeant Lestelle was a grizzled veteran, with almost 40 years service with the Templars behind him. More than half that time had been spent Palestine, but ten years ago he had fallen ill and been sent back to France to recuperate. A strict disciplinarian, Lestelle had been given charge of training the novices, and was soon the most feared of all their training masters. Even now, Everard found himself checking his tack a second time, afraid that Lestelle might discover some flaw. The other two men assigned to the escort were lay-brothers. Brother Conan was a round-faced, balding man who usually tended the Commandery's fowl and seemed completely flustered and disoriented by the questionable honor of being tasked with escort duty. Brother Claude was a young, eager youth, who had not been with the Order very long and could not disguise his excitement at the prospect of travelling to the Holy Land. It seemed an odd assortment of individuals, but Everard reminded himself that the Commander would have had his reasons for selecting them and it was not his place to question them.The bells were ringing Prime and to Everard's surprise the party he was to escort arrived punctually. He hauled himself hurriedly into the saddle and rode over to greet his charges. He had no difficulty distinguishing between the Lady Blanche and her waiting woman, although both were modestly dressed in practical, light-weight dark cloaks and white wimples. Lady Blanche was riding a fine-boned bay mare that flaunted her breeding from every fiber of her well-groomed body. The waiting woman rode a big-boned, long-haired hack that seemed indifferent to its surroundings. Approaching the Lady Blanche, Everard was careful to keep his eyes averted slightly. He greeted Lady Blanche politely and introduced himself. Lady Blanche at once offered him her hand, and he blushed slightly and looked over his shoulder toward the scowling Lestelle, uncertain if a Templar was allowed to kiss a lady's hand or not. Since he had joined the Order he had not had anything to do with women of any sort, much less ladies. His up-bringing won out over his religious scruples and he took her hand to his lips and bowed his head over it. "I'm perfectly aware that this is an unpleasant duty for you, Monsieur, but Claire and I will do our best not to make it more burdensome than necessary." Startled by her candor and her melodic voice, Everard looked directly into her face, only to be more startled by the discovery that she was handsome woman of middle age rather than the old crone he had imagined. Remembering his vows, he looked hastily away, and tried to sound appropriately brisk as he said, "If you are ready, Madame, we will depart at once."When Lady Blanch assured him she was as ready as she ever would be, Everard nodded shortly, and turned away from the women to signal for the others to mount. Five minutes latter the little party trotted out of the gate of the Commandery at Chauvigny bound for the Holy Land.+ + +There were many good reasons why Blanche had decided on a Templar escort. Obviously the degree of protection one could expect from the best knights in Christendom was one, but another important advantage was the strict rules the Templars had against conversing with women. Blanche wanted no undue inquiries about the purpose of her travels. It suited her very well to have an escort that kept their eyes on the road and spoke only when necessary.She appreciated too the efficiency of Templar planning, something they were famous for. Sir Everard, as expected, had planned their route carefully to enable them to spend each night at an abbey or priory. Furthermore, when he realized that Blanche was a very good rider and Claire uncomplaining, he adjusted the plan to accommodate longer stages that should have brought them to the their goal, the Templar Mediterranean port of Collioure, sooner. Unfortunately, the war in the Languedocgot in their way. In Cahors, a city profiting immensely from financing and supplying the army of Simon de Montfort, they were advised to avoid travel through the County of Toulousealtogether. De Montfort, they were told, had taken Penne-d'Agenais from the Count of Toulouse' son-in-law, and laid siege to Moissac. The latter, it was said, was putting up a fierce resistance, while Montauban still held firm for the Count of Toulouse. De Montfort, recognizing he could not conduct two major sieges at once, was meanwhile systematically raising, plundering and terrorizing the territory around and between both cities. Under the circumstances, even the neutral Templars could not hope to find food and lodgings in the area, Everard explained to Blanche, his eyes averted and his voice strangely strained.Blanche agreed to a circuitous route that skirted around the most devastated regions. This meant, however, that they had to travel through territory that had not yet been put to the sword by de Montfort and Everard warned that the area allegedly still harbored heretics. Blanche was quick to note that many churches were very run-down and several abbeys had been abandoned altogether. On the second day, they passed two men on the road wearing black robes. Hearing horses behind them, the pedestrians had looked over their shoulders and then stepped down into the ditch to let the Templars ride past. Everard nodded his head and lifted his hand in thanks and greeting without thinking, only to be sharply rebuked by Lestelle, who reminded him: “Templars should not greet heretics!” Only then did Blanche realize the men must have been some of the so-called “good men,” the heretical preachers of the Cathars. She twisted in her saddle to try to get a better look at them, but Everard, ashamed of his blunder, increased their pace to put distance between himself and the incident.As they rode deeper into the Languedoc, Blanche noticed that the number of beggars increased significantly. Even more distressing, they could not halt for any reason without a whore sidling up to the party of men. Sergeant Lestelle, who had taken charge of Lady Blanche's groom no less than the two lay-brothers, gave him more than one rough cuff on the ears to keep him from gawking, and chased the girls away with oaths and threats. Seeing the disgust and disdain on Lady Blanche's face after yet another incident of this sort, Everard approached her. “Madame,” he did not meet her eye but she could sense how tense he was. “I beg you. Don't judge them too harshly.”Blanche was astonished to find the serious young Templar, who seemed dedicated to his vows of chastity, defending common whores. But her surprise grew as he continued, “As a man who was raised not more than fifty miles from here, I know they were not born this way, Madame. They are products of the war. They have lost their homes, their brothers, their husbands. They have no one to protect them anymore and no other way to survive. God will forgive, Madam. I’m sure of it ― more easily than the men who made them what they are." Then he turned away quickly to shield his face from her gaze, and they spoke no more about it.
Shortly thereafter they came upon the first village that had been completely burned. The charred rafters of the better houses lay in heaps upon the cold ashes and blackened earth. Just beyond the town they passed a mound that still stank abominably. Blanche and Clair covered their faces with her veils and looked the other way until the mass grave was long out of sight, while Everard kept muttering a prayer for the dead and crossing himself again and again.In Albi, the Bishop hosted them in luxury for several days and Blanche was grateful for his hospitality. Not only did they have a chance to bathe and wash all their clothes, they were entertained by exceptional musicians at each meal, and even on fast days, although the Bishop was scrupulous to offer only fish, the variety dazzled; porpoise, turtle, salmon, trout, eels, cod and crayfish were all included on the menu.Yet for all his efforts to be a good host, on their last evening the Bishop could not entirely hide his depression. He complained, "The half of the population is ensnared by the wily teachings of these so-called ‘good men’ and the other half is so starved for true salvation that they let their immature children wander off on a bare-foot crusade.""Crusade?" Blanche asked, lifting her head attentively."Have you not heard of it? Some shepherd from the Vendome has been rousing the masses to follow him to the Holy Land. He claims he had a vision and was told to reclaim the Holy Land from the Saracen by love rather than force. Preposterous idea! I should think your Order would be very critical, sir." The Bishop pointedly addressed Everard."My Order is distressed by so much naiveté." Everard answered readily. "It distracts attention from the very real need to defend Outremer.""Defend Outremer." The Bishop humpfed under his breath, smoothing his silken robes across his broad belly. "Half the farms are devoid of young-people, whole herds of sheep have been abandoned, and there isn't a shop in Albi that hasn't lost apprentices ― all run off to free the Holy Land! Mark my words, the peasants will be pleading poverty and the inability to fulfill their feudal duties by fall, and we will have famine by February. All because of some shepherd-boy who can beguile the simple-minded with fairy-tales about defeating the Saracen with love!"But eventually, tired and dusty after yet another long day on the road, Blanche and her two servants with their escort of Templars reached the Mediterranean port of Collioure. They entered at dusk, just before the gates closed, and after a hot day that had made Claire almost faint and even Blanche feel miserable in her sweat-soaked clothes, a light breeze greeted them with a cool, soft breath off the placid sea. Blanche felt the wind on her face and glanced up as it rustled the long fingers of the palms planted beside the road, and completely forgot the discomforts of the trip. In that instant, she fell completely and permanently victim to the enchantment of the Mediterranean.The Templar Commandery sat on the shore commanding a private harbor, and here Blanche and Claire were given a chamber in the square keep. Windows opened in each wall, giving a view in all directions and providing a cooling draft. On the walls were frescoes depicting St. Christopher, Jonah and the Whale, Christ walking on water and - not entirely thematic - the ascension of the Virgin. Water was brought for bathing along with a light snack. Blanche was assured she would be received by the Commander the next morning after Terce.Although Claire all but fell into bed and started snoring at once, Blanche could not sleep. She pulled a shawl around her shoulders and went to sit in the window facing East. From here, Blanche could hear the gentle hiss of languid waves upon the beach beside the harbor, and gaze upon the water shimmering under the light of a half-moon. This very same body of water caressed the shores of Palestine, she thought with excitement. “Outremer” meant “Beyond the Sea.” Outremer lay beyond this sea. And Abelard was there.For the first time since the day she had learned of his survival, Blanche surrendered to her feelings, systematically calling to mind each and every memory she had cherished and then neglected. So much was already obscured with time, blurred or lost to her entirely. She was no longer entirely sure where or when they first met. She knew sometime afterward there had been a tournament at which she had been courted by many bachelor knights, and he had been one of them. She had fancied him even then, but made a point of not showing it ― thinking it was clever to make him jealous. Now she despised the girl she had been then ― flirting and teasing and making light of another's feelings. Not that most of her contemporaries were more serious than she. It had been a game to them all ― nothing but a diverting amusement between more important things like meleés, hunts and falconry. The bachelor knights had dallied with her because she was pretty, but they did not take things too far because her father was a respected nobleman. Only with Abelard was it different. She had sensed that from the start, and that had excited and frightened her both. Her intuition told her that Abelard's interest in her was less superficial and more powerful than that of the others, something that was intensely satisfying to her vanity. But she had also heard enough lectures from her priest and warnings from her father to be alert to the danger of adventurers ― men who would not scruple to abduct and rape an heiress for her fortune. Abelard was a younger son, a man without land, and so a man with everything to gain by such tactics. How often had she sat up late into the night ― just like this ― trying to decide if he were a fortune-hunter merely waiting for the opportunity to dishonor her? The problem had robbed her of her sleep many a night because she could not tame her feelings for him. She had hungered for the sight of him, sought every opportunity to see and speak with him ― even if she then wasted the time with him in silly banter. Of course, no one was deceived by her pretended disinterest, and it even reached her father's ears that she was showing marked favor to Sir Abelard. That resulted in a severe scolding; her father sharply admonished her to have more care of his honor and her own.Vexed that Abelard had been the cause of rare parental disapproval, she had accused him of dishonorable intentions to his face. Abelard had denied the charges and withdrawn deeply offended. It had been months before they met again ― and by then he had taken the cross.The months apart had taught Blanche the intensity and persistence of her feelings. She had been so glad to see him again, she had dispensed with all falsehoods. She had even apologized to him for doubting his motives. He had replied that he would make himself worthy of her by gaining fame and fortune in the coming crusade.There had followed those three enchanted months in which they had been openly and exclusively in love and she hadn't cared who knew. They had danced only with each other, walked endless miles in the garden, hunted and hawked together. They were never allowed to be alone, of course. Claire shadowed them, and one or another of her father's knights or squires was in constant attendance when they rode out. But her father had tolerated the situation because he knew that the crusader would soon be taken away by his vows. Blanche had simply refused to believe that Abelard would really go away.Blanche sighed as she gazed upon the Mediterranean. With the wisdom of age, it was crystal clear that Abelard would go. That was what had always made him different from the others: he was serious and he took his word seriously. She cringed in retrospect to think how little she had understood him then, and how little she had appreciated his true value. She had been dazzled by his good looks, enthralled by his prowess at arms, and thrilled by his palpable desire for her. His steadiness of purpose, his earnestness and sober plans had meant little to her. But the widow had to give the maiden credit for one thing: she had fallen in love with the best of all the men she had known then or since. The decision she had made two months earlier to seek Abelard out in Palestinehad been motivated as much by boredom and restlessness as longing. Tonight, she felt herself drawn to him across this great peaceful basin of water which beckoned with its whispering waves.
CHAPTER TWO
Chauvigny, PoitouMay 1212
The light slanted down from a narrow window high above their heads and Blanche watched the dust particles dance in the sun-light while she listened to the nasal voice of the Templar chaplain reread the document he had composed at her request. She listened very carefully, making minor corrections as necessary, and she noted the way the Treasurer of the Commandery, who sat opposite her, raised his eye-brows once or twice. There were not many women who had such a good command of Latin, he noted dryly as they finished."I was an only child." Blanche replied, as if this explained everything.The chaplain turned the document around and passed it across the table to her. The treasurer shoved the lighted candle and the ceiling wax in her direction. Blanche took her time, skimming the written text to be sure it was identical to what had been read aloud. With this document she bequeathed the bulk of her estate to her son Jean-Pierre, but the precious stud-farm, the jewel of her inheritance, was sold to the Knights Templar for the princely sum of 1000 Louis Tournais. The facts were simple: Jean-Pierre would never be able to hold on to the stud-farm against his powerful and less scrupulous half-brothers. She preferred to see the Templars benefit from her father's prize stallions than her step-sons. When she had convinced herself that everything was exactly as she had decreed, she held the ceiling wax in the candle until it started to melt and then let the wax fall heavily upon the base of the document. Removing her signet ring, she pressed it carefully into the wax. The Treasurer was already holding out his hand palm up.Blanche rolled the parchment together and wrapped the red ribbon around the roll, tying it neatly and firmly as she would her embroidery threads. Then with a smile to the Treasurer, she took the document and slipped into her wide, flowing outer sleeve. "I want a receipt for the 100 Louis made out for redemption in Outremer, and I will turn this deed over to a representative of Your Order the day I am safely delivered to the household of Hughes de Hebron at Castle Montfort in Galilee."The Treasurer yanked his hand back and his eyes flashed with irritation. "I don't understand, Madame. If you wish to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, than you can be assured of the protection of the Knights Templar from here to any place in Palestine. That has nothing to do with the Testament you have just made." His hand, as if of its own accord, was reaching out again."I'm not going on pilgrimage. I am going to visit an old friend in the Holy Land, and since I am an old, foolish woman, I want a Templar escort from door to door." She smiled her most charming smile.The Treasurer's face was stony. "Madame, my Order is virtually the only bulwark holding back the Saracen hoards. We are involved in a life-and-death struggle every day. Our entire energy and resources are directed toward holding on to the Sacred Soil of our Saviour. The Knights and Sergeants of my Order are not for hire.""Ah." Blanche responded, looking him directly in the eye. "I certainly did not wish to imply that the Templars could be hired. But if my father's stud farm and the wonderful horses it could provide your knights for generations to come are not worth the trouble of escorting an old woman to Castle Montfort, than I suppose I should see if the Hospitallers--""I didn't say that!" The Treasurer interrupted her sharply. His face was harsh, his teeth clamped together, and she could see how much he hated her. But she smiled sweetly and waited for him to continue. "I will be sending dispatches to Acrein a fortnight. If you are ready by then--""But of course, Monsieur." She smiled rising, the deed still tucked neatly inside her sleeve."You will have to ride, Madame. No litter, no wagon. And only one servant.""I will take my waiting woman and a groom, Monsieur." Blanche told him calmly, and the Treasurer swallowed down this retort like bitter beer because he had no choice but to accept it.+ + +Sir Everard tightened the girth of his fretful stallion with a sharp jerk and with his left hand automatically fended off the snapping teeth. He could not suppress the nervousness in his stomach, nor could he decide if it was an honor or an insult that he had been tasked to escort some old widow to the Holy Land. It was just two years since he had joined the Order, and this was the first time he had been entrusted with a task on his own. Even more awe-inspiring, it was his first opportunity to go to the Holy Land. But escorting an old noblewoman was hardly something a young man could be proud of, and, to complete the ambiguity, they had assigned Sergeant Lestelle to accompany him. Sergeant Lestelle was a grizzled veteran, with almost 40 years service with the Templars behind him. More than half that time had been spent Palestine, but ten years ago he had fallen ill and been sent back to France to recuperate. A strict disciplinarian, Lestelle had been given charge of training the novices, and was soon the most feared of all their training masters. Even now, Everard found himself checking his tack a second time, afraid that Lestelle might discover some flaw. The other two men assigned to the escort were lay-brothers. Brother Conan was a round-faced, balding man who usually tended the Commandery's fowl and seemed completely flustered and disoriented by the questionable honor of being tasked with escort duty. Brother Claude was a young, eager youth, who had not been with the Order very long and could not disguise his excitement at the prospect of travelling to the Holy Land. It seemed an odd assortment of individuals, but Everard reminded himself that the Commander would have had his reasons for selecting them and it was not his place to question them.The bells were ringing Prime and to Everard's surprise the party he was to escort arrived punctually. He hauled himself hurriedly into the saddle and rode over to greet his charges. He had no difficulty distinguishing between the Lady Blanche and her waiting woman, although both were modestly dressed in practical, light-weight dark cloaks and white wimples. Lady Blanche was riding a fine-boned bay mare that flaunted her breeding from every fiber of her well-groomed body. The waiting woman rode a big-boned, long-haired hack that seemed indifferent to its surroundings. Approaching the Lady Blanche, Everard was careful to keep his eyes averted slightly. He greeted Lady Blanche politely and introduced himself. Lady Blanche at once offered him her hand, and he blushed slightly and looked over his shoulder toward the scowling Lestelle, uncertain if a Templar was allowed to kiss a lady's hand or not. Since he had joined the Order he had not had anything to do with women of any sort, much less ladies. His up-bringing won out over his religious scruples and he took her hand to his lips and bowed his head over it. "I'm perfectly aware that this is an unpleasant duty for you, Monsieur, but Claire and I will do our best not to make it more burdensome than necessary." Startled by her candor and her melodic voice, Everard looked directly into her face, only to be more startled by the discovery that she was handsome woman of middle age rather than the old crone he had imagined. Remembering his vows, he looked hastily away, and tried to sound appropriately brisk as he said, "If you are ready, Madame, we will depart at once."When Lady Blanch assured him she was as ready as she ever would be, Everard nodded shortly, and turned away from the women to signal for the others to mount. Five minutes latter the little party trotted out of the gate of the Commandery at Chauvigny bound for the Holy Land.+ + +There were many good reasons why Blanche had decided on a Templar escort. Obviously the degree of protection one could expect from the best knights in Christendom was one, but another important advantage was the strict rules the Templars had against conversing with women. Blanche wanted no undue inquiries about the purpose of her travels. It suited her very well to have an escort that kept their eyes on the road and spoke only when necessary.She appreciated too the efficiency of Templar planning, something they were famous for. Sir Everard, as expected, had planned their route carefully to enable them to spend each night at an abbey or priory. Furthermore, when he realized that Blanche was a very good rider and Claire uncomplaining, he adjusted the plan to accommodate longer stages that should have brought them to the their goal, the Templar Mediterranean port of Collioure, sooner. Unfortunately, the war in the Languedocgot in their way. In Cahors, a city profiting immensely from financing and supplying the army of Simon de Montfort, they were advised to avoid travel through the County of Toulousealtogether. De Montfort, they were told, had taken Penne-d'Agenais from the Count of Toulouse' son-in-law, and laid siege to Moissac. The latter, it was said, was putting up a fierce resistance, while Montauban still held firm for the Count of Toulouse. De Montfort, recognizing he could not conduct two major sieges at once, was meanwhile systematically raising, plundering and terrorizing the territory around and between both cities. Under the circumstances, even the neutral Templars could not hope to find food and lodgings in the area, Everard explained to Blanche, his eyes averted and his voice strangely strained.Blanche agreed to a circuitous route that skirted around the most devastated regions. This meant, however, that they had to travel through territory that had not yet been put to the sword by de Montfort and Everard warned that the area allegedly still harbored heretics. Blanche was quick to note that many churches were very run-down and several abbeys had been abandoned altogether. On the second day, they passed two men on the road wearing black robes. Hearing horses behind them, the pedestrians had looked over their shoulders and then stepped down into the ditch to let the Templars ride past. Everard nodded his head and lifted his hand in thanks and greeting without thinking, only to be sharply rebuked by Lestelle, who reminded him: “Templars should not greet heretics!” Only then did Blanche realize the men must have been some of the so-called “good men,” the heretical preachers of the Cathars. She twisted in her saddle to try to get a better look at them, but Everard, ashamed of his blunder, increased their pace to put distance between himself and the incident.As they rode deeper into the Languedoc, Blanche noticed that the number of beggars increased significantly. Even more distressing, they could not halt for any reason without a whore sidling up to the party of men. Sergeant Lestelle, who had taken charge of Lady Blanche's groom no less than the two lay-brothers, gave him more than one rough cuff on the ears to keep him from gawking, and chased the girls away with oaths and threats. Seeing the disgust and disdain on Lady Blanche's face after yet another incident of this sort, Everard approached her. “Madame,” he did not meet her eye but she could sense how tense he was. “I beg you. Don't judge them too harshly.”Blanche was astonished to find the serious young Templar, who seemed dedicated to his vows of chastity, defending common whores. But her surprise grew as he continued, “As a man who was raised not more than fifty miles from here, I know they were not born this way, Madame. They are products of the war. They have lost their homes, their brothers, their husbands. They have no one to protect them anymore and no other way to survive. God will forgive, Madam. I’m sure of it ― more easily than the men who made them what they are." Then he turned away quickly to shield his face from her gaze, and they spoke no more about it.
Shortly thereafter they came upon the first village that had been completely burned. The charred rafters of the better houses lay in heaps upon the cold ashes and blackened earth. Just beyond the town they passed a mound that still stank abominably. Blanche and Clair covered their faces with her veils and looked the other way until the mass grave was long out of sight, while Everard kept muttering a prayer for the dead and crossing himself again and again.In Albi, the Bishop hosted them in luxury for several days and Blanche was grateful for his hospitality. Not only did they have a chance to bathe and wash all their clothes, they were entertained by exceptional musicians at each meal, and even on fast days, although the Bishop was scrupulous to offer only fish, the variety dazzled; porpoise, turtle, salmon, trout, eels, cod and crayfish were all included on the menu.Yet for all his efforts to be a good host, on their last evening the Bishop could not entirely hide his depression. He complained, "The half of the population is ensnared by the wily teachings of these so-called ‘good men’ and the other half is so starved for true salvation that they let their immature children wander off on a bare-foot crusade.""Crusade?" Blanche asked, lifting her head attentively."Have you not heard of it? Some shepherd from the Vendome has been rousing the masses to follow him to the Holy Land. He claims he had a vision and was told to reclaim the Holy Land from the Saracen by love rather than force. Preposterous idea! I should think your Order would be very critical, sir." The Bishop pointedly addressed Everard."My Order is distressed by so much naiveté." Everard answered readily. "It distracts attention from the very real need to defend Outremer.""Defend Outremer." The Bishop humpfed under his breath, smoothing his silken robes across his broad belly. "Half the farms are devoid of young-people, whole herds of sheep have been abandoned, and there isn't a shop in Albi that hasn't lost apprentices ― all run off to free the Holy Land! Mark my words, the peasants will be pleading poverty and the inability to fulfill their feudal duties by fall, and we will have famine by February. All because of some shepherd-boy who can beguile the simple-minded with fairy-tales about defeating the Saracen with love!"But eventually, tired and dusty after yet another long day on the road, Blanche and her two servants with their escort of Templars reached the Mediterranean port of Collioure. They entered at dusk, just before the gates closed, and after a hot day that had made Claire almost faint and even Blanche feel miserable in her sweat-soaked clothes, a light breeze greeted them with a cool, soft breath off the placid sea. Blanche felt the wind on her face and glanced up as it rustled the long fingers of the palms planted beside the road, and completely forgot the discomforts of the trip. In that instant, she fell completely and permanently victim to the enchantment of the Mediterranean.The Templar Commandery sat on the shore commanding a private harbor, and here Blanche and Claire were given a chamber in the square keep. Windows opened in each wall, giving a view in all directions and providing a cooling draft. On the walls were frescoes depicting St. Christopher, Jonah and the Whale, Christ walking on water and - not entirely thematic - the ascension of the Virgin. Water was brought for bathing along with a light snack. Blanche was assured she would be received by the Commander the next morning after Terce.Although Claire all but fell into bed and started snoring at once, Blanche could not sleep. She pulled a shawl around her shoulders and went to sit in the window facing East. From here, Blanche could hear the gentle hiss of languid waves upon the beach beside the harbor, and gaze upon the water shimmering under the light of a half-moon. This very same body of water caressed the shores of Palestine, she thought with excitement. “Outremer” meant “Beyond the Sea.” Outremer lay beyond this sea. And Abelard was there.For the first time since the day she had learned of his survival, Blanche surrendered to her feelings, systematically calling to mind each and every memory she had cherished and then neglected. So much was already obscured with time, blurred or lost to her entirely. She was no longer entirely sure where or when they first met. She knew sometime afterward there had been a tournament at which she had been courted by many bachelor knights, and he had been one of them. She had fancied him even then, but made a point of not showing it ― thinking it was clever to make him jealous. Now she despised the girl she had been then ― flirting and teasing and making light of another's feelings. Not that most of her contemporaries were more serious than she. It had been a game to them all ― nothing but a diverting amusement between more important things like meleés, hunts and falconry. The bachelor knights had dallied with her because she was pretty, but they did not take things too far because her father was a respected nobleman. Only with Abelard was it different. She had sensed that from the start, and that had excited and frightened her both. Her intuition told her that Abelard's interest in her was less superficial and more powerful than that of the others, something that was intensely satisfying to her vanity. But she had also heard enough lectures from her priest and warnings from her father to be alert to the danger of adventurers ― men who would not scruple to abduct and rape an heiress for her fortune. Abelard was a younger son, a man without land, and so a man with everything to gain by such tactics. How often had she sat up late into the night ― just like this ― trying to decide if he were a fortune-hunter merely waiting for the opportunity to dishonor her? The problem had robbed her of her sleep many a night because she could not tame her feelings for him. She had hungered for the sight of him, sought every opportunity to see and speak with him ― even if she then wasted the time with him in silly banter. Of course, no one was deceived by her pretended disinterest, and it even reached her father's ears that she was showing marked favor to Sir Abelard. That resulted in a severe scolding; her father sharply admonished her to have more care of his honor and her own.Vexed that Abelard had been the cause of rare parental disapproval, she had accused him of dishonorable intentions to his face. Abelard had denied the charges and withdrawn deeply offended. It had been months before they met again ― and by then he had taken the cross.The months apart had taught Blanche the intensity and persistence of her feelings. She had been so glad to see him again, she had dispensed with all falsehoods. She had even apologized to him for doubting his motives. He had replied that he would make himself worthy of her by gaining fame and fortune in the coming crusade.There had followed those three enchanted months in which they had been openly and exclusively in love and she hadn't cared who knew. They had danced only with each other, walked endless miles in the garden, hunted and hawked together. They were never allowed to be alone, of course. Claire shadowed them, and one or another of her father's knights or squires was in constant attendance when they rode out. But her father had tolerated the situation because he knew that the crusader would soon be taken away by his vows. Blanche had simply refused to believe that Abelard would really go away.Blanche sighed as she gazed upon the Mediterranean. With the wisdom of age, it was crystal clear that Abelard would go. That was what had always made him different from the others: he was serious and he took his word seriously. She cringed in retrospect to think how little she had understood him then, and how little she had appreciated his true value. She had been dazzled by his good looks, enthralled by his prowess at arms, and thrilled by his palpable desire for her. His steadiness of purpose, his earnestness and sober plans had meant little to her. But the widow had to give the maiden credit for one thing: she had fallen in love with the best of all the men she had known then or since. The decision she had made two months earlier to seek Abelard out in Palestinehad been motivated as much by boredom and restlessness as longing. Tonight, she felt herself drawn to him across this great peaceful basin of water which beckoned with its whispering waves.
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